


All in a day’s work.

by Dracomalfoyy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Beating, Fainting, Fever, Gunshot Wounds, Hypothermia, Illness, I’m sorry I’m just desperate now, Kidnapping, Marvel Cinematic Universe - Freeform, Other, PTSD, Poison Gas, Stabbing, because that’s the way it should have been, deaf!Clint, injuries, its bad but it’s all I can do, no tea no shade at marvel though, non-canon, whomp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracomalfoyy/pseuds/Dracomalfoyy
Summary: Everything that could go wrong going wrong for our little baby avengersIt’s not great but what is after infinity war





	1. I pick my poison and it’s you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha Romanoff doesn’t get along with poison gas. Or medical advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I rewrote the first chapter to make it better because honestly I’m deeply sorry that any one had to read that. It was bad. Like really bad. 
> 
> Imma put it down to nerves and send you off with the new and improved version! See ya!

Natasha Romanoff had been trained for a lot of things. She could kill a man with no more than a paper clip and a good reason. However there was only so much training could do against gas. She couldn’t put gas in a chokehold (no matter how many times Clint said that she could try) and she couldn’t distract it. It was her one weak spot. 

One thing that truly sucked about being human on a superhuman crime fighting team was the vulnerabilities that the others didn’t have. Thor was a god, nothing could touch him without converting to Buddhism. Tony had a mask and a god complex that convinced him he was untouchable. Peter had a mask when the little dude was around. Banner wouldn’t deal with gas very well but the other guy was practically immune to everything. Supersoldier serum got Rogers out of most difficult spots, not including talking to girls or kids. Even Barton, the most human out of them all, was too high up for gas to really affect him and even if it did he’d try to shoot it. So Nat was on her own. And if one thing has been drilled into her during the red room days, it was to never show her weak spots.

‘Nat, there’s some sort of cloud coming in, make sure you’re clear just in case.’ the comm buzzed in her ear with the voice of Rogers. Nat rolled her eyes and started to jog away from the threat behind her. She was about two blocks away and relatively safe when the comm buzzed again.  
‘Guys, I hate to ruin Christmas but there’s kids trapped a block away. Personally I’d go but I’m a little busy.’ Stark shouted from his firefight in the sky.  
‘I’m stuck here and Banner is a no go. Thor?’ Rogers replied.  
‘It won’t harm them. Build up their immunity for the future. When I was a boy we used to dine on poison as a game!’ Thor chuckled as he launched a body at a row of enemies.  
Nat located the archer who was miles away helping out Stark with exploding arrows.  
‘I’ll take this one boys, since I’m the only hero on the team anyway.’ She drawled and set off back the way she came. 

Sure enough, two boys were huddled together in the empty staircase of a subway station. The probably poisonous gas was rolling in tauntingly. Nat scanned the area around her, looking for a quick way out. There’s was no way these kids, terrified out of their minds, would be able to run fast enough to beat the approaching danger. An abandoned car in the death cloud caught her eye. Typical.  
‘Stay right here. Don’t move, don’t even breathe until I’m back unless you want to die.’ She shouted to the boys, making her way across the street to the car.  
‘Nat,I love you and trust you so forgive me for doubting you but is running into poisonous gas really the best idea you can come up with?’ Barton said into the comm.  
‘If you can find a better idea, I’m all ears.’ She replied, shattering the window of the car with her elbow. She yanked the panel off the front of the car and twisted the now exposed wires until the hum of the engine sounded. The gas had reached her now, crawling down her throat, threatening her lungs. She pushed her foot down and sped across to the two kids.  
‘Get in!’ She yelled, coughs escaping her mouth. Natasha drove them at a very illegal speed away from the poisonous cloud. No civilian casualties today.

The Avengers were nothing if they weren’t fast. Within 3 minutes of Nat getting the boys and herself out of the area, a shield of nanoparticles had been put up, preventing the gas from getting any further. She watched the gas hitting the sides of the shield from the hood of the stolen car.  
‘So, tell me why you’re completely avoiding medical when you breathed in poison gas?’ Maria Hill said, handing Nat a small bottle of water.  
‘I’m fine. In fact I’m doubting it was even harmful.’ She mumbled back to the agent.  
‘Still worth a check up though.’ She replied with a small smile ‘and if you go, it makes it so much easier to get Clint to go.’ Nat smiled back and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath of the harmless air around her. 

Her eyes were forced open by the violent coughing that began. Nat choked on the air, her poisoned lungs corrupting every breath she tried to take. Panic and suffocation forced her to her knees as she struggled to communicate with the agent next to her. The gas crept around her body, stealing each and one of her senses until she was left with nothing. The cloud wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She could just about make out the mass panic around her but she didn’t care. Her sight and vision abandoned her. Slowly and violently, the outside world swam away.

SHIELD medical was appalling. Honestly, Nat thought she could give better treatment with a piece of paper and some sellotape. So when she woke up in the Avengers tower medical suite, she felt confident that she wasn’t going to die yet. Barton was perched at the end of her bed in full gear, fast asleep sitting up. The clock behind him read 3:17am. Nat reckoned she’d been out for around 10 hours maximum. Not bad. In fact, she thought that it might have been a new record recovery time for poison gas, one to beat. She relaxed into the comfy bed, hoping to sleep a little more before the concerned and annoyed team swarmed her like bees. 

Suddenly, a knife landed in the chart above her head.  
‘Hey, next time you decide to run into poisonous gas, just don’t do it. As much as you want think you’re invincible, you aren’t and I will remind you of that every day until your funeral.’ Clint scolded her, concern leaking through into his words.  
‘I thought you had better aim.’ she deadpanned, gesturing to the knife above her head.  
‘I’ll practice on you.’ He hissed at her.  
‘You’d never, I’m too pretty.’ She laughed.  
‘I’m prettier than you Romanoff, and you know it.’ Clint said, sticking his tongue out at his super assassin partner.

It turned out that Nat wasn’t breaking any records anytime soon. She’d been out for a whopping 3 days and 10 hours, which was nowhere near Clint’s record time of 11 hours (seriously how was this guy still breathing!?). The poison had been a new one, made to suffocate anyone it affected in a matter of seconds. Luckily, it was made by a shitty villain so it wasn’t very well made, meaning that the effects weren’t as extreme. Each and every breathing avenger, along with Fury, Coulson and Hill had lectured her ‘stupid ass actions’ and ‘reckless thought process’. They can’t have been that mad at her though; Steve had made her blueberry pancakes for breakfast and he didn’t cook very often. 

Nat would run into gas any day for blueberry pancakes.


	2. You can touch the sunrise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton has no self preservation skills at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while ago and fully forgot to put it up so here ya go. 
> 
> Clint is my baby and it hurts me to hurt him but let’s be realistic.

It was light and warm, 4:30am in July. From the rooftop, the view was stunning. There was worse ways to go. 

Clint closed his eyes, appreciating the peace of the early summer morning. The action had died down now, the only sounds coming from the birds in the trees. They sung out of tune and out of time but it was almost idyllic.

The mission had been a simple one; just him, Nat and Steve chasing a ring of traffickers. It should have taken 30 minutes maximum but if you tied in trying to avoid any civilian casualties it could easily take hours. Thankfully it had all been wrapped up by 3am. SHIELD had taken away the survivors and sent them to the bay or back home. 

Nat and Steve were tying up any loose ends around the city while Clint stayed up on his rooftop, covering their backs. You never knew who was lurking in New York. Coincidentally, that had been Clint’s downfall. He forgot to cover his own back and had to deal with a surprise attack from a very angry, well trained trafficker. Obviously the guy was no match for Clint in the end but he’d managed to get in some pretty good hits, including a nice, deep wound across his left side and some minor stab wounds to his arms and torso. 

Considering the amount of blood he’d lost, he should have died well over an hour ago but Clint was nothing if he wasn’t stubborn as hell, even when it came to dying. He’d always get his own way. The invisible comms (which also served as a hearing aid for Clint but only Nat and Tony knew that; Nat because she was his best friend and Tony because he made the damn things) had been damaged during the fight and at this point, they wouldn’t function as a point of contact. He couldn’t get through to Nat or Steve in any way. 

Instead of wallowing over his slow but inevitable death, he decided to take in the view. After all, there was worse ways to go. Where else would he get a view like this? He got to watch New York City wake up as he went to sleep. 

Clint had been in this situation enough times to know when shock was gonna hit him. He assessed his injuries; 4ish minor stab wounds, one major wound, couple of broken ribs, concussion and a hell of a lot of muscle damage. Factor in his split kneecap, which wasn’t technically healed before the mission and definitely wasn’t healed now, and he was pretty much walking dead. Well, not walking literally. Blood loss was severe enough now to send him into shock, yet he was calm. Content, even.

The first businessmen began to march the concrete streets as oxygen deprivation began to kick in and Clint finally closed his eyes. 

‘CLINT! IF YOU DIE YOU’RE DEAD!’ The stern voice of a panicked Natasha Romanoff broke through to his starving brain as well as breaking the sound barrier. Heavy footsteps echoed on the rooftop as his team located and rushed towards him. Clint was too tired. Too tired to open his eyes and let them know that he was still kicking. Yet he managed a small groan, just so they knew he was present.  
‘We’ve still got him but barely. He’s been bleeding out for a while.’  
‘How far out is medical?’  
‘I’m gonna call SHIELD now.’  
‘Avengers Tower is a couple blocks away. SHIELD and Clint don’t have a good history when it comes to medical.’  
‘So we take him to Stark. And fast.’ Both Nat and Steve settled on avoiding SHIELD medical, much to Clint’s joy. They were way too intrusive and they always took his hearing aids. He hated lip reading when he was in medical. As if his head didn’t hurt enough.

Clint felt Steve slowly lift him out of the puddle of blood he’d created and carry him off of the rooftop. Every step caused his broken ribs to scream and it took all his dignity not to scream with them. His face set like stone as he tried to hide every wince and cry. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work and Clint gasped painfully as Cap rushed down the stairs. Clint tried to roll himself out of Steve’s grip but just caused the supersoldier to trip, inflicting more pain on Clint’s broken bones. He whimpered, giving up on any form of pride he had left.  
‘Hold still, just a few more minutes, we’re gonna get you someplace better in a sec, just hold on, don’t try to move. I know you’re hurt but it’s just a few more minutes I promise.’ Cap comforted him as they sped up towards Avengers Tower. Clint barely saw the obnoxious A before he passed out.

—————————————————————

Clint had never had a headache so intense in his life. Sure, the concussion probably contributed to a lot of the pain but it was an ache in his head, ergo a headache. He opened his eyes to a sleeping Steve Rogers and a glaring Natasha Romanoff. But it wasn’t her usual glare, it was her concerned glare.

‘Three weeks, nine different surgeries, two blood transfusions. A grand total of sixteen medical professionals and none of them could tell me why you have no self preservation skills.’ She whispered.

‘It’s probably the traumatic past.’ He answered back, his voice raw from three weeks of silence. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before flashing a small smile.  
‘I’m gonna get some air for a second.’ She murmured, leaving the room.  
Clint groaned a little. He definitely owed her something now. She hardly used her concerned glare when he was hurt.

Clint wasn’t alone for long as the closing door startled the senior citizen at his bedside. Steve rubbed his eyes.  
‘Clint? How you feeling son?’ He asked tentatively, leaning his arms on his bed.  
‘I’m biologically older than you Steve.’ Clint said in response.  
‘Clint.’ Steve used his scolding father voice. Clint knew he was in for a lecture.  
‘You died twice. You got hit real bad and it caught your spleen. You should have died way before we found you.’  
‘I’m incredibly stubborn.’ He countered, sitting up despite the protest from his body.  
‘Sixteen. Medical. Professionals. Sixteen of the smartest doctors in the world and none of them know why you’re still alive. You’re incredibly-‘  
‘Lucky. I know. I’ve been told a hundred times over.’ Clint had been told he was lucky from birth and it couldn’t be further from the truth. 

When he was finally released from medical, the whole team knew about Clint’s deafness. Apparently no one could keep secrets anymore. As much as it never interfered with his work, Clint tried to hide his deafness from everyone. It was irrelevant, after all. 

The whole team had fussed over him so much, offering him drinks and letting him choose what to watch. Tony had even invited him down to the workshop to fix his broken arrows. Nat ignored him for three hours before breaking, instead deciding to throw paper airplanes at him throughout the day.

It was light and warm, 4:30am in July. From the rooftop, the view was stunning. Clint ate his pizza on the roof of avengers tower, watching the sunrise.


	3. We are deaf, we are numb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat’s archer was a fucking idiot

It went against every aspect of her training. Never give the information away. Nat knew that the information they wanted was worth more than her life would ever be. But it wasn’t worth his. Not one word of it. 

They’d both been captured conscious and unharmed. But that was so long ago now. Every day had been a field trip to the theme park of torture. From what she had counted, it had been a little over two weeks since they got caught. It seemed stupid to even think. Two master assassins kidnapped by a red skull wannabe. Nat had been hopefully initially, yes she was in a floor length dress but what ex-red room operative would she be if she couldn’t fight in a gown? The mission was at some charity gala that pretended to be honourable but had deeper, darker intentions. Her backup was Clint, naturally. Nat wouldn’t cosy up and pretend to be married to just any archer assassin. The plan was to take out the threat quickly and quietly. She didn’t count on the threat knowing they were there, waiting for them. 

That was two weeks ago. On the first day, they laughed at the threat and spat in his face. He was majorly underprepared and both of them were experts at enduring torture by now. So the threat did his homework while the assassins sat and waited for something to happen. Two days later, he came back with a friend. Nat knew her as Katya Anikov, the leader of the mob in Russia. Of course this was a drugs thing. It was always a drugs thing. 

Anikov specialised in making her victims crack without laying a finger on them. Her victims usually consisted of low life thugs and druggies that couldn’t pay their way. By the time she had finished, Anikov was closer to cracking that Clint and Nat. 1 point to Team Delta.

When psychological torture hasn’t worked they moved onto physical torture. Nat had been thrown into a cell while Clint was dragged away into an equally dark room. He returned hours later, his hearing aids gone and his shirt ripped and bloody. 

The threat came every day and took Clint away every day. Not once did he even glance at Natasha in her cell. He threw water and food at her once a day. On the 7th day of their capture, he finally took Nat with them too. The threat sat her at a cold metal table facing Clint, slumped on a bloodstained chair in the room he was often dragged into. 

‘I want to know everything you know about Project Indigo, Black Widow. You will tell me everything. Or Hawkeye over here gets hurt. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.’   
Natasha rolled her eyes at the threats monologue.   
‘What does he want?’ Clint signed with tired hands, free from their rope.   
‘Everything about Project Indigo apparently.’ She signed back.   
‘Tell him it’s an interior design business. It will be funny.’   
‘Not funny while you’re bleeding out.’ Nat sighed as her hands moved, mentally cursing Clint’s lack of self-preservation. Their conversation was cut off by the threat slamming an unloaded gun onto the table.   
‘I’m getting impatient now Black Widow. Information or he dies.’ The threat demanded.   
‘Can you handle three more days?’ Natasha signed to Clint.   
‘I can handle seven more. Do your thing.’ He replied.   
Natasha rocked back in her chair, smirking at the threat.   
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m afraid.’ She snarled at him.

The threat didn’t take lightly to being disobeyed. He picked up the gun off the cold table, loaded it and pointed directly at Natasha’s head.  
‘People say that marble is hard to break. I will succeed.’ He whispered.   
She looked the threat directly in the eyes, daring him to pull the trigger. In a matter of seconds he turned and fired at Clint, hitting his battered body. The force of the bullet tipped his chair back, sending him rolling along the floor, leaving a trail of crimson. They no longer had seven days. A normal person had 24 hours at most. Clint probably had a couple more days. Not long enough. 

3 hours had passed, Nat refusing to answer any questions and Clint being cut, burnt, punched, kicked and electrocuted. Each new attack had drawn out a heart-wrenching scream from the archers mouth. Each new attack brought Nat closer to abandoning all her training and giving up everything about Project Indigo. She had to stick to her plan. She could afford to make mistakes. An important life was at stake this time. 

An hour later, Nat was dragged back to her cell, leaving Clint close to death at the end of a crowbar. She punched at the wall, screaming. Clint could easily have fought off their kidnapper, his hands were free for the love of god! This was hitting Budapest levels and they had no safety net to fall back on. No extraction plan in place. Just Natasha and Clint. Black Widow and Hawkeye. 

Nat sat with her back to the rusted bars separating her cell from Clint’s. It was their 14th day being captured, 7 days since Nat had seen Clint at all. She could do this, she could get them both out in some state of aliveness. She was trained for it. But while Clint was at risk she couldn’t afford to be reckless with her plan, despite the fact that if it was the other way around, Clint would only be reckless. 

Clint Barton and Hawkeye were very different people. Hawkeye was a circus trick, a purple arrow hitting dead centre of whatever target there was. Clint Barton was an assassin, a strategist and a huge fucking idiot unless you knew him well enough to see past the act he put on. He was probably smarter than Tony Stark himself. He would never let anyone see it though. People expect less from an idiot. 

Nat’s thoughts were disrupted when the door creaked open and her battered best friend was thrown into the neighbouring cell. She turned to the bars, scanning him for anything else that was life threatening. Two gunshot wounds that were probably infected, broken ribs, burns, more bruises than she could count, a very black eye and multiple deep lacerations including one son of a bitch across his abdomen. It oozed crimson. A fresh cut. 14 days of pure beating and for some reason her stupid best friend was grinning at her from his new spot across the dirty floor. 

‘I can’t here you but I’m sure you can hear me. I hope you have a plan Tasha because I’m getting real sick of being punctured.’   
Nat nodded, her words tangling in her throat.   
‘One more day I promise. Is he alone? Does he have henchmen?’ She signed to him.   
‘He’s all by himself Tasha. Not to brag but I could probably take him if I had some shits to give. Project fucking Indigo.’ He slurred, his eyes fluttering slightly.   
Nat shifted, lying on her stomach. She reached her hand through the bars, straining to reach her now unresponsive archer.   
‘Project fucking Indigo.’ 

As soon as he his breathing began to change, getting shallower and shallower every hour, the plan was put into action. 

‘Hey! Cocksucker! Wanna know about Project fucking Indigo? I’ll tell you all of it.’ She kicked at the bars of her cell, sending a screaming vibration across the room. The door slammed open and the enemy marched in, a sick smile painted on his stupid face.   
‘Finally. The marble has cracked. Tell me everything, Black Widow. I might spare your life if you prove truthful.’   
Nat rolled her eyes so viciously, she went a little dizzy.   
‘Project Indigo is a weapons programme. A team of highly trained operatives with nothing to live for. Agents willing to die for whatever they’re protecting.’   
The enemy stepped closer to the bars. Perfect.   
‘Wanna some top secret information about this team of assassins?’ She asked, a smirk decorating her face. He nodded eagerly, stepping right up against the bars, nose to nose with Nat.   
‘Two things. Number one: you piss them off, you die a long and painful death. Pain that you can’t even dream off. Living through hell on earth.’ She heard him gulp, his breathing quickening.   
‘Number Two: You’ve pissed them off.’ She smiled wickedly. 

His eyes widened as he realised his mistake. Before he could even think about moving, the cold, serrated edge of his knife was pressed tight against his throat.   
‘You’ve has us for 14 days because I allowed it. You’re sloppy, inexperienced and grossly understaffed for the mission you’ve tried to carry out. You didn’t even tie up the man you were torturing. You didn’t even hide the keys to the cell. I’ve had them for seven days. I know every little thing there is to know about you and I’m damn sure that you’re gonna break. I am marble and you are glass. But him in that cell over there. He is pure diamond. And when he is ready I’m gonna send him to you. No matter where you go Markus, you will never be out of his sight.’ She whispered into the ear of the man she once called the enemy. He was no enemy. In less than a second she slammed his head against the metal bars of the cell, knocking him out cold. 

She emptied his pockets, gaining a pistol, a phone and a memory stick. Nat changed out of her dress into the cargo pants and jacket that Markus had been wearing. Quickly, Markus was in her old cell and she was dragging Clint’s body through the halls of the building. Nat found the door in less than two minutes and was greeted by thick layers of snow. It was still February and they were obviously in Switzerland. Nat out Clint into the passenger seat of the car left outside. Markus really was an ameuter. Like seriously? Who even gave him this mission? 

The mobile had been secured and Nat dialled the number for Stark. He was the fastest and the only way that Clint was gonna get the help he so desperately needed.   
‘Natalie Rushman? I haven’t heard from you in years. Need money? Recommendation letter? Calling just to chat?’ Tony snarked.   
‘Tony. It’s a code nine. We’re stuck in Switzerland and Clint’s lung collapsed a few hours ago. He’s been out for 15 hours. We’ve been captured for 15 days.’ Desperation leaked through her words and she hated herself for it. Vulnerability. Only Clint Barton would get her to show she was human.   
‘Slow down spidergirl, take in some hair between your words. I’ve got you Nat it’s gonna be fine. We’re a couple hours out on the jet. Everything’s set up and ready.’ He soothed, the change in character partly due to guilt. Nat could hear the bustle of the tower in the background. 

A code nine was pretty much the worst you could get without actually being dead. Only Clint had ever gotten to a code 10.   
‘He doesn’t have a couple of hours Tony.’ She said softly, tears hitting the dashboard.   
‘Natasha. This is Clint. He’s literally came back from the dead before. I know what he means to you and you need to do whatever is possible to keep him alive. That means stopping bleeding, finding breaks, finding cuts and infections. You’ve done this for him a hundred times before.’ 

She nodded, pulling herself together.   
‘Stay on the line. Give me time updates.’ She said, her voice slightly stronger.   
She hotwired the car and drove through the snow until she found the cover of some trees, away from the building that was her home for two weeks. Nat pulled the car apart, finding a miniature vodka bottle, half full and a plain white shirt. She cleaned out Clint’s bullet wounds with the spirit, careful not to irritate them more than they were. Markus had removed the bullets beforehand, proving how unprepared he was. She tore the shirt into makeshift bandages and wrapped up the worst of his wounds, determined not to let her friend bleed out. When she was finally happy that he was still breathing, even if not very well, she relaxed a little, tapping fairytales onto his wrist in morse code. 

1 hour and 53 minutes later, the two assassins were on board the quinjet, being looked over by one of Stark’s personal doctors. Both were severely malnourished and dehydrated but Clint was about three minutes away from code ten and Nat could only blame herself. Whenever her life was at stake, Clint acted on instinct to get them both out even if they ended up a little worse for wear. Clint never had an extraction plan, an escape plan or even a life plan. Nat had to know every detail and test the plan in her head hundreds of times before she acted. Red room training seemed to stick to her. If, even just once, she had done what Clint did and just acted on impulse, her best friend wouldn’t be dying in a jet over the alps. 

3 months later, Clint was out of his medically induced coma and in the small hospital wing on the 43rd floor of the tower. Nat had told the whole team about Project Indigo, excluding the tiniest detail of the 3rd team member. That was top top secret.   
‘So,’ Tony stood up, reaching for the clipboard at the end of Clint’s bed ‘we have a new record. Traumatic pneumothorax, three cracked ribs, two infected gunshot wounds, a deep chest laceration, concussion, black eye, dislocated shoulder, sprained knee and some lovely lovely internal bleeding. Congrats Katniss! I owe you two thousand dollars.’   
Clint smiled at his friends, all emptying their pockets. Never bet with Barton if you want to win. Especially about injuries. He would throw himself off of a building into a pit of broken glass and nails if it meant he won.   
‘And so does everyone else! Should I take it all at once or in monthly instalments?’ He pondered, earning a few groans and swearwords directed his way. 

Nat watched Clint collect his money with a small smile on her face. Her archer was a fucking idiot.


	4. All of my bones, they scream I’m right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets stuck in his own head.   
> Tony gets stuck on the floor.

‘How many people have to get hurt before you realise that a fight isn’t a Stark showcase?!’ Steve yelled across the jet. If Tony could have rolled his eyes out of his head and off the jet into the air he would have. Every single fight they fought ended with the team yelling at Tony for breaking the plan or risking lives. 

‘There was a flaw in your plan Spangles, there was literally no way we could have saved everyone.’ Tony shifted in his seat, wincing at the sudden pain that erupted in his stomach. 

‘My plan was fine. In fact, my plan was ideal because in my plan we weren’t flying a near dead child home for emergency surgery!’ Steve gestured towards Wanda. She was holding up a collapsing building when Tony slammed into the ground, startling her and causing her hands to stop. The force of the collapse shook the ground around the town and screams could be heard for miles. 

‘If that building hadn’t dropped, hundreds would have died and so would she! She’s a child Steve not a forklift! That building was going down no matter what. If it had gone down any later the impact would have killed more. Three people in exchange for hundreds. It’s not an easy decision to make but it’s one that a leader should be able to.’ Tony’s words were biting, leaving shock on the faces of the rest of the team. 

‘You better hope that we only lost three lives Stark, because if one more person gets hurt because of you.’   
‘What will you do Cap? Kill me?’   
Steve stormed across the jet, disappearing into the narrow bathroom. 

Tony took a deep breath and checked his watch. Heart rate was slightly elevated. Nothing concerning but at this point, Tony would accept long and painful heart attack if it meant everyone would stop staring. Their faces were differing, some showing anger, others showing concern. 

He stood up suddenly, ignoring the sharp stabbing at his ribs and the sudden lightheadedness. He made his way across the jet, eyed trained on the door to the showers, slightly stumbling. Mud was never fun to be covered in. He turned on the shower, stripping out of the clothes that stuck to him, with blood and sweat. He glanced down at the site of the pain, noticing the colourful array of bruises across his chest and abdomen.   
‘That’s slightly alarming.’ He murmured to himself, pressing gently on the tenderest part of his abdomen. The skin around the arc reactor was still normal, causing a sharp decrease in concern for his health. He’d recovered from poisoning by ignoring it. This couldn’t be worse. 

Briefly, Tony considered getting someone to double check that he was fine. But Steve’s words echoed in his head and he’d be damned if he was the fourth person to be hurt by him. He tugged a black hoodie over his bruises and stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes, determined to avoid his teammates until they reached the tower. When the reached the tower, he moved so fast out of the jet that black dots flooded his vision and he had to steady himself on the doorframe.   
‘Stark? You good?’ Natasha asked him, her face blank of any emotion.   
Tony flashed a smile at her and straightened up, igniting more pain across his stomach.   
‘Bruised pride and broken ego but physically fine.’ He rushed his words, eager to cut off all human contact in exchange for his lovely robots in his lovely lab with his lovely FRIDAY. 

Walking to his lab was one of the most painful experiences of his life. It definitely ranked in the top 5, if not the top 3. By the time he reached the door, he was practically forcing himself upright with help of the walls. The door whooshed shut behind him, glowing slightly red to signify that he was locked in, fingerprint access only. Everyone had the password to his lab but only Tony had fingerprint access. And Clint. He was smart. He fell into his chair and rolled himself across the lab to his table. Ah, the joy of rolling chairs. No walking meant no pain and that was something Tony was eager to keep up. 

‘FRI, how much trouble am I in here?’ He asked, slumping onto the table in front of him.   
‘Sir, I suggest immediate medical attention. You are displaying signs of internal bleeding. Shall I contact Mr. Rogers?’ The AI voice responded   
‘You do that and I’ll replace you with TUESDAY.’ Tony slurred, trying to block out the blossoming pain spreading across his body. 

Waves of nausea hit him fast and hard, causing him to cough and gag. Small spots of blood decorated the table and Tony swore in his head. Steve was gonna have a fucking field day with this. If he found out about it. Hopefully, Tony would be dead before he could be further lectured by the team leader. More coughing brought blood into his hands. Tony tried to stand, greeted by more black spots and pain. Internal bleeding was one hell of a bitch. He felt his legs liquify and dropped to his knees, coughing a pool of blood onto the floor of the lab before dizziness knocked him backwards and into the land of black. 

Steve clutched his coffee cup, glossing over the days events. Tony made him so angry when he did these things. Wanda was in bad shape and the guy was sat in his lab playing with his robots. The thought of it caused Steve to crush his coffee cup, the glass cracking into shards. Steve stood up and started towards the lab. He had a team to protect and if that meant lecturing Tony to the gods he would do it. So many lives were risked, all because Tony wanted to keep himself out of harms way. 

He reached the lab, noticing the red glow of the door that meant the password wasn’t gonna get him in. Steve banged his fist on the door, yelling at the top of his voice when it opened suddenly. The lab was still, no human or robot in sight.   
‘Tony?’ Steve called out apprehensively. He strode in slowly, eyes flitting across the room, searching for the genius. He was met with complete silence.   
‘FRIDAY? Where’s Tony?’ Steve called out, still searching the lab slowly.   
‘Sir is behind his desk, Mr. Rogers. Against his wishes, I must inform you that he is suffering from internal bleeding and was unconscious for one minute and forty seconds.’ The robotic voice spoke across the room. 

Steve rushed over to the table at the back of the lab, spotting Tony flat on the floor beside a puddle of blood.   
‘Steve,’ Tony spoke unevenly ‘just letting you know that the body count is rising to four. My fault.’ His words were littered with winces and gasps that caused Steve’s heart to crack a little.   
‘FRIDAY, let the team know what’s happened. I’m taking him up to them and they need to be ready.’   
Steve picked Tony up, as gentle as he could, before setting a steady pace up to the hospital wing. It was six floors up, just above the Avengers common floor. Steve had gotten to the elevator doors when FRIDAY spoke again.   
‘Mr. Rogers, Sir is 10 seconds away from going into shock.’ There was a hint of panic in her voice and Steve marvelled at how Tony managed to make his AI so human. 

Tony was lethargic, sweating with blood dripping from his nose. This was not good. This was far from good. The elevator stopped suddenly and Steve rushed out, handing the dying man to the medical team to fix. They could fix him. They had to. 

Sixteen hours later, the team were sat in the waiting room of the hospital floor.   
‘Rogers. He was right, you know that?' Natasha spoke suddenly. ‘Weighing up the lives isn’t a fun job but what we do isn’t meant to be a fun job. It’s meant to be hard and haunting. It’s meant to make you break down and cry late at night when you think about what you couldn’t do. It’s meant to break your heart to make tough decisions because that’s what a leader does. There was a flaw in your plan. You have your head stuck too far up your star-spangled ass to see that you have a team to consult, not to carry or contradict. I just hope and pray that your self-righteousness hasn’t killed someone who was trying to help.’ The air in the waiting room had turned icy as Steve hung his head.   
‘It’s just that, I couldn’t save Bucky-‘   
‘Cut the crap Rogers,’ Barton snapped ‘accept that you made an error and move on. Stop making excuses to justify yourself. When I fuck up, do you think I bang on about how I couldn’t save Coulson? No, I admit that I fucked up and move on. Stop using Bucky as an excuse to be a dick.’ 

The room settled into awkward silence again.   
‘Anything else?’ He asked, glancing at Thor, Banner and Rhodes.   
‘This is a team, not a dictatorship. When we have suggestions you can’t just brush them off and assume that your ideas are better.’ Bruce muttered.   
‘The Maximoff girl and I spoke. She chose to drop the building at that time. Tony being there was just a coincidence. The body count lies with the enemy, not your friends.’ Thor added.   
Steve buried his face in his hands.   
‘I fucked up.’   
The rest of the team nodded. 

When Tony was released, Steve avoided him like the plague. He knew that he had to accept defeat and apologise but it was hard when Tony was constantly with Rhodey, who glared at Steve fiercely whenever he was close to them. He walked into his floor, prepared to try again tomorrow, when he noticed a note on the kitchen counter. 

I know you know you fucked up. I get it Spangles, those choices are hard. Accept the help we give you and they become a little easier. You got his Captain.  
From the leaky pen of Tony Stark, businessman extraordinaire and best avenger.   
(Ps. I’ll get rhodey to back off)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing this one for a month until 2am today when I deleted all of what I had and just smashed it out in 20 minutes so I’m sorry if it’s crappy but I really needed to give Clint a break.


	5. I don't know if I'll be coming home again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punctured Parker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based off the song 'my mother was the moon' by King Dude

When Peter read that being stabbed just felt like being punched, he'd rolled his eyes and decided that whoever had written that, probably hadn't ever been stabbed. 

 

Then again, neither had Peter.

 

Until now, where he lay on the bed of a river, dirty and cold. Peter decided to write a letter to the person who brought up the whole punchy stabby thing because they were right. Peter hadn't noticed the deep wound until the bad guys were gone and his legs gave out.

 

He knew he was losing too much blood than he was meant to but honestly, he'd expected his healing factor to have kicked in by now. The frozen December air bit at his skin, protected by only his suit. 

 

Peter could call out to Karen for help. He was still wearing his mask and it didn't seem damaged. It was the most logical thing to do but something stopped him from saving himself. He wanted to lie for at least a little while longer. 

 

Through his lidded eyes, he swore he could see his mother. 

 

He didn't remember much about her. She was warm and soft and spoke in a sweet whisper, almost as if she was worried about hurting Peter's ears. She had brown curls, not too different from his own, and the greenest eyes he swore he'd ever seen. 

 

There was a very high chance that he was remembering the fine details wrong, he'd been young when his parents died, but in every photo he saw, those green eyes stared right at him, always full of life.

 

Peter tried to reach up, tried to touch his mother before she disappeared again, leaving a hole that would never truly be filled. May did a damn good job of being Peter's mother but he could never call her mom. His body betrayed him, arms staying limp at his sides with fingertips stained with blood. 

 

Christmas was close when they died. Peter remembered the lights and the trees. He remembered how icy the roads had gotten and how his father had buttoned up Peter's coat before strapping him into the car seat. He remembered watching the snow fall softly past the windows of the car. The same snow that grew more and more crimson as he cried louder through the pure chaos. 

 

It it seemed fitting that he was going to die near Christmas, just 14 years later than his parents. 

 

Stars blinked angrily at him, as if they were begging him to hold on and find strength. To call for help. The moon stayed stationary, changing from silver to the green of his mothers eyes and she was there again, above him, in place of the moon.

 

The water lapped at his side, dragging away the blood that collected around him. He could be swept away and never found yet he still didn't have the strength to leave. If he moved, he'd lose her again.

 

 _Peter,_ she called out, soft and sweet. _Peter it's time to get help darling. You're drifting._

 

He closed his tired eyes, savouring the voice he never really remembered. 

 

_Peter, baby, I love you but you're too young. You've got so much to do first. You have so much to achieve._

 

A sob caught in his throat as he heard her. He knew he couldn't just die. He had the streets of New York to protect.

 

_Peter, it's okay. I'm always here, your father is here, your uncle is here. We watch you all the time, our little hero. We're so proud, always so proud of you, our little spider._

 

Heaviness tugged at the edges of his consciousness, as if he were finally exhausted. He wanted to sleep so bad, to close his eyes and see his mother. His father. His uncle. 

 

But that was selfish. Peter wasn't selfish. 

 

"Karen..." He choked out a sob, tears cascading down his face, seeping through his mask and running to the river beside him. "Call Tony..."

 

_You are my sunshine_

 

Peter watched the stars dance above him as the moon simply was the moon again. 

 

_My only sunshine_

 

It was just so quiet, so peaceful. Peter was so tired.

 

_You make me happy_

 

He wanted to sleep but Tony would be there soon and he couldn't do that to him. He couldn't do that to May.

 

_When skies are grey_

 

Ned and MJ would worry if he vanished. In time they'd figure it out and then it would hurt them. He didn't want to hurt them. 

 

_You'll never know dear_

 

Lots of noise. Everywhere. Loud. People. Someone was touching him. Talking to him. Probably Tony.

 

_How much I love you_

 

He was being moved somewhere. A needle was poking into his hand. He opened his eyes to see the medbay of the compound. 

 

_Please don't take my_

 

It was light. He wasn't bleeding out anymore but he was exhausted. It was safe to sleep now. Peter could sleep now. He closed his eyes. 

 

_Sunshine away_


End file.
